


In Sickness and in Health

by Robin Hood (kjack89)



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 09:56:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11987436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/Robin%20Hood
Summary: Carisi's expression was serious, even though his tone was light when he said, “Well, luckily for you, it’s my day off as well. So I’m gonna make you soup.”He pressed a quick kiss to Barba’s temple before getting out of bed, and Barba groaned at both the loss of heat and the reminder that Carisi was going to be home all day. Carisi, who still sometimes got a look on his face as if he was the lucky one in their relationship. Carisi, who on occasion lost track of the conversation he was having just because Barba walked by and he couldn’t help but stare.Carisi, who was loving and attentive and warm and was probably going to end up smothering Barba to death.





	In Sickness and in Health

**Author's Note:**

> Another that could've gone in my tumblr prompt collection, but this one was long enough that I feel justified publishing it on its own.
> 
> Prompt was for "I love you said brokenly, as you clutch my sleeve and beg me not to leave", and I decided to interpret that as this. Because we all need a little more fluffy nonsense in our lives.
> 
> Usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

Barba woke up one morning with the telltale, buzzing heaviness echoing throughout his skull, the sure sign that despite copious amounts of Purell and Emergen-C, he had picked up the annual flu bug making its rounds through the DA’s office.

Normally, Barba wouldn’t have made a big deal out of it, would’ve headed into work, grabbed some files and taken the rest of the day off to return home and do what work he could while cocooned in at least three blankets and wallowing in his own misery. A few glasses of scotch would at least help with the headache and the sore throat (his abuelita had always told him that liquor burned the germs off the back of your throat when you were sick — Barba preferred to just follow this advice rather than question its logic).

It was practically an annual tradition, after all.

But this year, Barba realized that his normal plan was going to be derailed almost instantly by the cool lips pressed against his cheek and the low, Staten Island accented voice saying, a little concernedly, “You feel a little warm, Rafi.”

“Maybe it’s because I have 180 pounds of Italian meat draped all over me,” Barba said, his voice scratchy and painful, both to listen to and to use.

“Italian meat?” Carisi repeated with a laugh, though it didn’t quite erase the concern from his expression as he peered closely at Barba in the dim light. “Ok, now I know you must be sick.”

He laid a hand against Barba’s forehead and Barba groaned, batting it away. “It’s just the flu bug that’s been going around the office,” he sighed. “I’ll take the day off, pump myself full of NyQuil and Mucinex, and I’ll be fine for tomorrow.”

Though Carisi nodded his approval at this disaster of a plan, his expression was still serious, even though his tone was light when he said, “Well, luckily for you, it’s my day off as well. So I’m gonna make you soup.”

He pressed a quick kiss to Barba’s temple before getting out of bed, and Barba groaned at both the loss of heat and the reminder that Carisi was going to be home all day. Carisi, who still sometimes got a look on his face as if he was the lucky one in their relationship. Carisi, who on occasion lost track of the conversation he was having just because Barba walked by and he couldn’t help but stare.

Carisi, who was loving and attentive and warm and was probably going to end up smothering Barba to death.

Barba groaned again and buried his face in his pillow. He could imagine it now: Carisi dabbing at his forehead with a damp cloth, or asking him every five minutes if he needed a cough drop, or—

“Alright, I know you’d normally kneecap me if I brought you something other than coffee in the morning, but here’s some tea with honey and lemon,” Carisi said, setting the tea mug down on Barba’s nightstand, along with a blisterpack of pills. “And here’s some NyQuil. I already texted Carmen for you, so go to sleep, and when you wake up, there’ll be soup.”

Barba rolled over to at least grudgingly say thanks, but Carisi was already gone.

He blinked.

Well, that was…unexpected.

But Barba wasn’t going to look a gifthorse in the mouth, and so he swallowed the pills, making a face at the tea (and pretending like the honey didn’t soothe his throat, just a little), before rolling back over and closing his eyes, willing himself to fall back asleep before Carisi could return with a cool washcloth.

When his eyes next fluttered open, early afternoon sunlight was streaming through the windows. “Sonny?” he asked, turning over, expecting to see Carisi lying next to him, maybe even looking at him with concern like he had that morning. Instead, the bed next to him was empty, and the only sign that Carisi had even returned to their bedroom while Barba had been asleep was that his cup of tea had been replaced by a glass of water and a covered bowl of soup.

Barba slowly sat up in bed, wincing as the movement made his headache worse and waited for the room to stop spinning before reaching out for the soup. Chicken noodle, of course, and unless his rather stuffy nose deceived him, the Carisi family recipe.

He took a cautious bite, then another, surprised to find that the soup was still warm. Warm was about the only compliment he could give it, not because Carisi hadn’t done what he assumed was an excellent job, but because Barba couldn’t taste anything.

Still, the warm liquid felt good against the soreness in his throat, and he ate the entire portion before setting the now-empty bowl back on his nightstand.

It occurred to him that Carisi had not yet checked on him, hadn’t even poked his head in to see how Barba was doing, to check if he was awake or wanted more soup or _anything_ , and despite himself, Barba was beginning to feel a little perturbed. Sure, he hadn’t wanted Carisi to mother hen him to death, but he was _sick_ , and had expected Carisi’s protective side to kick in at least a little.

Barba brightened slightly when Carisi came into the room, though he was disappointed when Carisi just glanced at him. “Oh, you’re awake,” Carisi said, before disappearing into the closet. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fine,” Barba sniffed in his most pitiful sounding voice, assuming that as much as anything would draw Carisi’s sympathy.

It didn’t.

Instead, Carisi reemerged with an armful of dirty laundry, which he dumped on the foot of the bed and started sorting through. “You don’t sound fine,” he said offhandedly. “You need anything? More tea, or more soup? I can get you anything you like.”

Barba normally would’ve made a lewd joke at that offer, but he found it a lot less sexy when Carisi was in the middle of sorting their dirty underwear. “No, I’m ok,” he sighed instead.

“Alright, shout if you need anything,” Carisi said, leaving with the appropriate load of laundry in hand.

Barba glowered at the door. He had expected just a _little_ bit more love and care from his boyfriend. Ok, that was a lie, he had expected a _lot_ more love and care from his boyfriend, though he’d have settled for a little.

Now in a thoroughly sour mood that had only marginally to do with the headache he felt resurfacing with a vengeance, Barba closed his eyes and tried to will himself back to sleep, but all he could think about was how nice a cool washcloth or a throat lozenge would have felt right about then.

When he could no longer bear pretending to sleep, he groaned and rolled over to grab his cellphone off the nightstand, texting Carisi in lieu of wearing his voice out even further by shouting: _I need more Kleenex._

After a moment, the bedroom door cracked open and Carisi poked his head in before underhanding a box of Kleenex onto the bed next to Barba. “Need anything else?” he asked.

Barba scowled at him. “I know what you’re doing, you know,” he said hoarsely, because he did, had come to the only likely conclusion while waiting for Carisi to bring him the Kleenex. “You’re waiting for me to admit that I want you to pay attention to me, and fine, you win. I’m willing to admit it: I want you here in bed with me because I feel miserable and you’ll make me feel better. Happy?”

“I’m always happy to hear you say that I win,” Carisi said with a smirk. “And I’m even more glad to hear you admit you want my attention.”

“Then why haven’t you been showering me with it like normal?” Barba sniped.

Carisi fidgeted, suddenly awkward. “Oh, uh, it’s just, I’m supposed to be seeing my niece this weekend, and, ya know, I don’t wanna get her sick or anything.”

Barba frowned. “I thought Bella and Tommy were out of town this weekend.”

“Oh, right,” Carisi said, flushing. “Uh, well, you know, the squad’s shorthanded and I can’t really afford to get sick, so…”

He trailed off and Barba just stared at him. “I’m possibly dying of consumption in here and you’re worried about leaving the squad shorthanded?” he asked, incredulous.

Carisi rolled his eyes. “You’re not dying of anything,” he scoffed.

“That didn’t answer my question.”

Carisi squirmed uncomfortably for a moment before blurting, “It’s just really gross, Raf, I’m sorry. The snot and the wheezing and everything else—”

He waved a vague hand in the direction of Barba’s entire being and Barba stared at him. This was the literal opposite of what he had expected, and he knew he was pouting, just a little, when he demanded, “What about ‘in sickness and in health’?”

“First of all, we’re not married yet, so I don’t think that applies,” Carisi said evenly. “Secondly, there are limits, even to ‘in sickness and in health’, and besides, I’m still here for you in sickness.” He shrugged and at least had the good sense to look a little embarrassed. “Just, you know, here for you in the living room.”

With that, he turned to leave but Barba reached out and snagged him by the shirt sleeve. “Please don’t go,” he said, giving into his full patheticness and trying to replicate Carisi’s most convincing puppy dog eyes. “Please. I love you and I need you — or at least, I need your body heat. Please.”

Carisi’s expression softened with something close to pity and he bent down to kiss Barba, who felt a smug sense of victory. But then, at the last possible moment, Carisi made a face and pulled away. “I love you, too, but babe, there’s snot coming outta your nose and I just can’t.”

He made a hasty retreat to the living room while Barba scowled and mopped at his nose with a Kleenex. “Will you at least bring me some scotch?” he called pitifully.

“You’re not supposed to drink when you take NyQuil,” Carisi replied.

“You are officially the worst boyfriend ever,” Barba shouted, wincing when his voice cracked.

He could hear Carisi laughing as he called back, “I love you, too.”


End file.
